


Never, Again

by Turacoverdin



Category: Re:ゼロから始める異世界生活 | Re:Zero Starting Life in Another World (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Disordered Eating, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28613883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turacoverdin/pseuds/Turacoverdin
Summary: He skipped meals. He picked at his food. He spat bile and curses at his reflection in the sinkwater when the world fuzzed hot and cold and the nausea hit. He needed to lean on the counter to stand up. He hated that he was weak. He hated that he was vomiting in the bathroom.  He hated that he was acting so disgusting. He hated that it felt good.There are many unhealthy coping mechanisms Subaru could have turned to.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	Never, Again

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory re:zero angst fic (now with added nonsense!)
> 
> general warning for eating disorders/disordered eating

He doesn’t really know when it started.

It started before everything. Far before everything else. He was alone in his room. He was always alone in his room. His parents called him out for dinner, for lunch, for breakfast, and he didn’t respond. He didn’t leave. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t want them to see him. They dropped off food and he ate it, when he didn’t forget to.

It started after that, when he first volunteered to work at the mansion. He didn’t eat all of his food. He was too busy watching everyone else eat. He made that food—it was nice to watch everyone else enjoy it. He wasn’t hungry, really, either. He couldn’t look at the food on his plate without thinking that’s going to be in me, in my stomach, in my guts, on the ground, and he couldn’t help but think of his intestines spilling out in his hands, warm, so warm. He pushed past it. He wasn’t weak. He put food in his mouth and it was warm. He didn’t eat it all.

It started on his final loop in the mansion. He didn’t have time to eat, so he didn’t. He wasn’t hungry, anyways. How could he be, when every time he closed his eyes he saw spikes, looming ever closer? When he saw Rem, dead? When he saw Ram, screaming?

He skipped meals. He picked at his food. He spat bile and curses at his reflection in the sinkwater when the world fuzzed hot and cold and the nausea hit. He needed to lean on the counter to stand up. He hated that he was weak. He hated that he was vomiting in the bathroom. He hated that he was acting so disgusting. He hated that it felt good.

It passed quickly. He decided that he’d eat more. He didn’t want his blood sugar to drop again—that was what that was, right? That was why he’d been tingly and weak and nauseous. That hadn’t happened before, when he was back home. He was doing something wrong here. Or maybe it wasn’t that he was doing something wrong. Maybe it was because he was doing anything at all. He’d never left his room, back there. He’d been inside all day, unmoving. Pathetic. Disgusting. Maybe he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Maybe there was something wrong with him.

He was healed after the mabeast incident and he didn’t have to eat, for a while, because Beako didn’t want it to mess with her healing process, or something. She didn’t want to waste her time on him. He felt energized, with her healing, even without the eating. He felt so energized, without eating.

He didn’t eat much after Emilia left. He didn’t want to. He felt nauseous. He ate, though, every time before he left for her, for the white whale, because he wasn’t stupid, because he knew that he had to eat. He knew he needed to keep his strength up. His vision couldn’t go grey if he wanted to save Emilia. He couldn’t save Emilia if he couldn’t stand up. If he was weak.

He ate every time before he left because he could eat. He could eat. He could eat. There wasn’t anything wrong with him. The food didn’t taste as good as Rem’s cooking, though. The meat was too rare, sometimes. It was pink and wet and they gave him knives to cut it with. It tasted like blood. It was normal for him to not eat all of it.

He doesn’t know how long he was in Sloth’s cave. He didn’t eat there. He was hungry. It was disgusting. How could he be hungry when Rem was—? How slothful of him. He felt nauseous. His muscles went weak. The world spun. His fingers and toes and arms and legs tingled and numbed and ached. He couldn’t stand up because of the chains. He wouldn’t have been able to stand up anyways.

He didn’t eat in the next loop.

He didn’t eat until he talked with Rem. He didn’t eat until they were ready to go after the white whale. He ate a lot, then, because he wasn’t stupid. It made him feel full. It made him feel nauseous.

Rem was unconscious, in a coma, and he wasn’t hungry. He should wait for her, before he ate. He liked her cooking best. Everything else tasted raw. Bloody. He’d eat more when she was back, definitely. He was choosing not to eat, now. He could eat, if he had to. She wasn’t eating, so why should he? Besides, he wasn’t hungry. He felt nauseous. There wasn’t anything wrong with him.

And then the world is turning fuzzy and he’s staggering into a bathroom and collapsing against the wall, and oh, he wasn’t nauseous before this, because he feels nauseous now and it’s very, very different from what he felt before. He was hungry, before, probably, because he’s nauseous now. He feels hot. Cold. He’s going to vomit. He’s not hungry, but that’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s supposed to eat. He’s nauseous. He’s not hungry. He doesn’t want to eat anything. He wants to stand up. He stands up. Everything lists sideways and the world turns staticky grey. When he opens his eyes he’s on the floor again.

This is because he ate so much, isn’t it? He wouldn’t feel like this if he hadn’t eaten so much, back with the whale. He was used to not eating so much, before, and now he’s not. He’d figured it out, before. He knew how to get by without eating too much. Without eating anything.

All his progress was reset.

His progress is always reset, isn’t it? How funny. He can’t do anything right. What’s wrong with him?

Another wave of nausea sweeps him. He bends over the toilet and vomits. It feels disgusting. It feels good. There’s something wrong with him. He’s learned his lesson. He won’t eat as much, next time. He’ll have to ease himself back into—into whatever it is he’s doing.

He retches again. _I’m starting again from square one,_ Subaru thinks, almost hysterical, almost laughing, and he knows Rem would be disgusted to hear her words twisted like this. But he’s disgusting, and there’s something wrong with him, and she’s not here right now. _No, from zero._

**Author's Note:**

> ughhhh crunchyroll is mean. let me watch cour 2 already
> 
> anyone got any tips for writing subaru? they can be for "suffering" subaru or "everything is fine :)" subaru, i'm not picky


End file.
